


The King You Would Have Been

by Lady_Juno



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dwobbits, F/M, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Not A Fix-It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reunions, Sequel, Thorin is dead, fem!Bilbo, girl!Bilbo, lady!Bilbo, the hobbit's a girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:23:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4162056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Juno/pseuds/Lady_Juno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billa had left because it hurt to much to stay, but the pain didn't lessen in the Shire. If anything, it was magnified by the isolation she had once cherished. But Kili isn't about to let his aunt stay in seclusion. Not when she has a daughter to look after.</p><p>Sequel to <em>Heart of a King,</em> and written for/at the request of the lovely Lady Loki. I hope it eases your heartache a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Grieving Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Heart of a King](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4061566) by [Lady_Loki (Lady_Juno)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Juno/pseuds/Lady_Loki). 



> Do I feel a little cheesy, linking to a story that's on _my profile?_ Yes, yes I do. But I didn't write the story, so... I think it's justified. :)

The doorknob was ice on her palm. It was the only thing that was real, and it seemed to be melting away. How many times had she stood in this doorway and looked out at her garden path to see them (or worse, _him_ ) even though she knew none of them would be there? But there he was. Not _him,_ of course, but… he might as well have been. Save the warm brown eyes, Kili was the spitting image of his uncle, and even when he smiled, there was a shadow of Thorin around his jaw and lips. He was solid and real and when her vision began to swim with tears, he didn't vanish.

In a moment, he was beside her, catching her arm with a firm, warm hand. Billa supposed she must have started to faint, because she didn't remember him moving up the path to the door. One minute he was at the gate, the next he was in the doorway, looking down into her face with a pinched, concerned expression. She tried to form the question "Why are you here?" but all that came out was a sort of breathless giggle. Kili shrugged in a way that seem to say _Well, I'm here now,_ and smiled again, releasing her now that she was steadier.

"Come in," she murmured, trying to take deep breaths and only succeeding in making herself dizzy. "I'll… make some tea."

The kettle was set to heat in a trice, and the halfling tried to keep herself busy. Kili still hadn't said anything, and she caught herself looking around to make sure he was still there, checking to see if the Mad Baggins hadn't just gone and lost what thin threads of reality she was still clinging to. Her neighbors looked on with pity when she spoke with people who weren't there, and her real company seemed ever more scarce as the years slipped by.

"Are you still alone here, Aunt Billa?"

Kili's voice startled her out of her reverie, and Billa sat down at the table. After a moment, failing to come up with an appropriately polite answer, she buried her face in her hands, only to realize she was trembling again. She ran her finger up into her hair and stared at the tabletop for a moment, feeling her arms shake, before lifting her head again so she could look at Kili. He was watching her, eyebrows pinched, a tiny, concerned furrow wrinkling the worried lines in his brow. Unable to summon the word "yes," she just nodded.

The kettle began to whistle softly, and Billa straightened, pushing her chair back so she could serve her guest. Kili watched her. She didn't look at him. She didn't want to see the pity in his eyes.

In a moment, she was pouring the boiling water into her pot and and sweet aroma of her own soothing blend (she called it her "Nightmare Tea," because she drank it so often to calm her nerves at night) filled the kitchen. Letting the tea steep, she quickly turned toward the pantry and started a search for cakes or fruits or something to offer her guest.

"Aunt Billa… you know Tillie misses you."

Tillie. The name was like a lance through her chest. Her daughter's name was actually Thren, but when she'd been learning to speak, the best she could manage was "Till." Valar, how long ago had that been? As though Kili had been reading her mind, he spoke again.

"She's nearly six now. I was hoping… maybe you would come for her birthday."

Billa took a deep breath, then another. It felt like her heart was trying to seize in her chest, as though it were a conscious effort to make it keep beating, second by second. Tillie. Her little Tillie. When she'd left… oh, Mahal, she'd looked so much like him. She had his nose. Her curls, but his coloring. His ears. And every time she'd smiled, every time she'd laughed…. Billa closed her eyes, and maybe it would have hurt less to take her little sword to her own throat, but she didn't have the courage to do it. The sight of blood was enough to send her into a swoon (and thank goodness that habit hadn't developed until after the Quest was over--she'd have been perfectly useless otherwise).

"I thought dwarves… didn't do… birthdays."

"We don't." A pause, and it nearly crushed her with its silence. "But you do."

Billa returned to the table and set a little plate on the hardwood. She wasn't even sure what she'd picked up, only that it came from the pantry. When she looked at it, she discovered that it was the first of her summer squash, the skin yellow and streaked with gold. Pretty, but not ready to eat.

"I… I can't go back, Kili. I just can't."

To go back would be to go mad. To stay here would be… to beckon death with every Valar-forsaken breath in this empty, silent house. Billa found herself sitting, though she didn't remember doing so, with her head against Kili's shoulder and tears rolling down her cheeks.

"You belong in the Mountain, Billa. You belong with Tillie and the rest of us. We're your family and… we need you. I know it hurts. We all miss him. But we're stronger together." His voice was gentle, deeper than it had been, and rougher. He wasn't young anymore. Neither was she. None of them were. "Please, Aunt Billa… come home with me. Fili would have come himself, but… the whole king thing, you know. He needs to be there. But he wants to see you. It's important. Please come."

She couldn't honestly say she was capable of denying him. Not then. She didn't remember answering, but she must have, because next thing she knew, he was leading her toward the front door. She noted, almost absently, that his gait was… lopsided. He was still limping. She remembered his limp, right after the Battle, the ugly gash in his leg, how he'd been forced to sit as he watched over her during the… the burial. She couldn't bring herself to even think the word 'entombment.' It was too cold. Too distant. There was nothing in it of the dwarf she remembered.

Beyond her hedge, in the Lane, there were two more dwarves. One was a muscular, armored dwarf with an auburn beard that reminded her of Ori for some reason, and the other was taller, with chiseled features, sharp blue eyes, and a silky, intricately braided black beard, tiny gold beads threaded through at intervals.

Billa knew Thorin was dead. She knew in her heart of hearts that he was never coming back. All the same, there was a painful lurch in the region of her stomach when she recognized Thorin's features in this newcomer. The blue eyes turned on her, and softened slightly in a way Thorin's had never done… well, not more than once or twice, anyway.

"Sister," greeted the dwarf in a deep, smooth voice. "My sons have told me much about you."

"Aunt Billa, this is my mother, Dis. I came this way to lead her caravan back to Erebor… and to get you."

Billa shuddered, but made herself smile. "Pity we couldn't meet under… better circumstances." She had a feeling she looked utterly pathetic, but couldn't bring herself to really care.

"Amad, could you make sure she's settled? I'll get her things. Last time, she forgot her pocket handkerchief. Nearly made us turn back for it." Kili gave Billa a wink. The memory startled a laugh from her, and for some reason, new tears leaked from her sore eyes.

"Spirits, you must have thought me such a fool."

"Maybe a little. But it was all in fun, back then."

Kili gave her shoulder a squeeze, then released her, turning back toward the round green door. She watched him go. Her will had been written within a week of her return. Everything would be taken care of. She didn't live in Bag End anymore anyway, so she doubted it would cause much of a stir.

"Miss Baggins?" Dis' voice was at her shoulder, and Billa nearly leapt out of her skin. She sounded altogether too much like Thorin. A hundred memories of Thorin addressing her that way flashed through her mind, tearing at her heart as they flew past.

_"So you're Miss Baggins? You look more like a seamstress than a burglar. No offense."_

_"Miss Baggins! Are you going to help us set up camp, or were you waiting for a formal invitation?"_

_"I've seen the sort of comfort you're accustomed to, Miss Baggins, but I'll ask you not be so frivolous with our supplies in the future."_

And yet after all that, she'd still… Billa shook her head violently. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to remember. When it became possible to focus her attention outward again, she saw Dis was looking at her with that same worried expression Kili had worn not long ago.

"Yes?" Billa tried to sound normal, but realized (a little too late) that she was clutching her patchwork housecoat about her day clothes, and probably looked like she was going to cry. Or already was. It was hard to tell anymore.

"Please… come with me, Sister. We'll see you settled, and you don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to."

There was something of stern practicality under the gentleness in Dis' voice, and the halfling nodded. The idea of changing her mind, of trying to go back into her smial never occurred to her. In a way, she supposed this was what she had wanted all along, though she'd never known it.

"You can just call me Billa. I… I like my name." Because this explanation made no sense at all, Billa didn't bother trying to expound. She couldn't imagine what she might say to make it sensible, anyway.

Dis nodded, but said nothing more as she took the halfling by the arm and led her down the Lane. Over the Hill, they came upon a sizeable caravan, with three sturdy carts and many pack animals, not to mention more dwarves than Billa wanted to account for. Dis seemed to understand this, and ushered her to the front, helping her into the back of one of the carts. It was dim and a little cramped, but there was a little nest of blankets that smelled like Kili between the crates of supplies, and Billa felt that much closer to home as she took a seat there. After Dis assured her that she could stay in the cart as long as she needed (and that they wouldn't be moving very fast, anyway) she moved off a little, leaving the muscular, ginger dwarf, Jor, behind to keep her guest safe.

 


	2. Heart to Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dis and Billa sit down and talk. Not everything is fluffy and pleasant, but... things are healing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are pretty short. I hope you don't mind.

"Kili tells me… that you had a child, by my brother."

Billa looked up from the fire which had until then absorbed her attention, swallowing it whole, like a large fish might swallow a fishing lure. Except without Dis' help, she wasn't strong enough to pull it back. She glanced at the female dwarf. Honestly, Billa couldn't blame her for asking. How long had they been on the road together? She couldn't remember talking to much of anyone, even Kili, and the days blended together in her memory, though not necessarily in a bad way. The discomforts of traveling were somehow soothing. And even if memories plagued her, they were positive ones.

"Yes. Her name is Thren." Billa's voice was a little rough, but this time, when she thought of her daughter, it didn't immediately bring tears to her eyes.

"Were you… married?" Dis' question was posed delicately, but the thought brought a faint, self-effacing smile to the halfling's lips.

"Married?" The word was almost lost in a huff of laughter. "No. Thorin never… I mean, he wouldn't. I'm… I'm just a hobbit."

Dis' eyes narrowed slightly. "The way Kili speaks of you… I doubt my brother thought of you as 'just' anything. Thorin wouldn't have fathered a child with one he felt was unworthy."

There was a brief pause, and Billa slowly shook her head. "Thorin never knew. I didn't… well, I _did_ tell him, but… it was too late, by then."

For a moment, Dis was silent. When she spoke again, it was almost a subject change. Almost. "Why did you leave her in Erebor?" _Why did you leave her at all?_

A feeling of shame welled up in Billa's gut, setting her dinner to churning uncomfortably. She looked down at the fire again, trying to lose herself to the dancing flames.

"I couldn't. I couldn't stay. It was… he wasn't there. It was wrong." Fragmented, difficult to understand, but Billa wasn't sure there was much to be done about it. Explaining a thing like that was like trying to explain to the Thane who Thorin Oakenshield had been to her. He had asked, once, when she'd been arranging for a new place to live. She'd been gone four years, after all, and she needed to account for her time one way or another.

"You have the look of a woman who has lost her One." Dis spoke softly, understandingly. Billa lifted her head, startled out of her own thoughts. The dwarrowdam looked sad. Unspeakably so. Then she remembered that Fili and Kili's father had died when Kili was still just a baby. That would have been over eight decades ago, now. Billa couldn't imagine going on that long without the support of the one she loved.

"My… One?" she asked cautiously. Dis gave an affirmative nod.

"A dwarf's One is he or she whom they love above all others. There can only be one such connection in a lifetime, and once that One is gone… there will never be another. I believe Thorin is your One, as you are his." She paused again, then shook her head. "But I can't understand why you would leave your daughter--I wouldn't have survived without Thorin and my sons. They kept me sane while I grieved, and gave me purpose afterward." There was something of wonder, and of disapproval in her tone. Billa's shame burned its way up into her chest and sat at the very base of her throat, threatening to move upward.

She was the problem. Not strong enough. As usual.

"It was a mistake to leave," she murmured, and whether she meant leaving Erebor or leaving the Shire, and which leaving of either--perhaps she regretted leaving anywhere, ever. If she hadn't left the Shire in the beginning, then she'd have been untouched by the Quest. If she hadn't left Erebor when Thorin banished her, then she would have been there during the Battle, and maybe she could have made a difference--maybe Thorin would still be alive now. If she hadn't left Erebor three years ago, then she would still be with her daughter, where she was supposed to be. If she hadn't left the Shire a few days ago, then perhaps she would be sitting in her kitchen, drinking tea instead of leaning against a hard, cold rock and staring at a camp fire.

"We can't dwell on the mistakes of the past." Dis once again interrupted her thoughts, and this time, Billa was grateful. "What choices we made then are unimportant in the face of the present. It's what we're choosing to do now that makes a difference."

Billa wasn't entirely sure she understood, but it felt right. It felt like something Thorin would have said. It wasn't about what she had done, but what she was doing. (Not, argued the Thorinish voice from the back of her mind, that her choices were anything to scoff at. How many times had she saved the Company through her ingenuity and quick thinking?)

"As far as I am concerned, you are my sister. My brother's One. It would take an act of utmost betrayal for me to change my allegiance." Dis made a strange gesture, but it was one that Billa had seen before--a twisting of the hand over the breast that Balin and Bifur had made toward Thorin on multiple occasions, that the others had made toward Fili when he was officially crowned. Its meaning was nebulous, but not completely unclear. Billa felt a surge of pride and affection for her new sister, and nodded.

"Thank you." She couldn't think of anything else to say. Nothing that would be at all meaningful, anyway. The halfling let the silence continue, but it wasn't stiff or uncomfortable anymore. It was the sort of silence that followed a good conversation, where the bond was allowed to settle and deepen.

And she found that she didn't feel so alone anymore.


	3. Heart of Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company is ambushed on the road, and Billa deals with the aftermath.

The last of the orcs spat his last curse as a battle ax clove his head from his shoulders. Only a warg or two remained, and those were being dealt with. Fifteen orcs, most mounted on wargs. Remnants, Kili said, of a larger force that had been routed by the elves of Mirkwood earlier in the year. Crossing High Pass, near Rivendell, they hadn't expected to be attacked, but the Misty Mountains were never truly safe. Billa stayed firmly on the back of her pony, a sturdy creature she'd named Brandy, but that didn't stop her from drawing her little sword and preparing to defend herself. Jor had been at her knee, and had rendered her blade superfluous, but it had felt good to hold Sting again.

When things settled and blood pooled, black and red and viscous on the rocky earth, the halfling began to shake. The smell was the worst. The sounds, she had managed to shut out, and the sights, she could bury in memories of similar visions… but the smell didn't go away. It didn't stop. It was still there, even though the danger had passed. The smell of death and evil. Billa was again standing on the edge of an endless battlefield, knowing her friends had been out there, not knowing if they still were, overwhelmed by death and decay and violence on all sides, blades pointing accusingly at the sky with jagged, bloody edges. There was the tent, flying the blue pennant of Erebor, and there was Thorin, cold and still and silent.

"Billa!"

Kili's hand on her knee drew her from the consuming past, and she realized her eyes were swimming with tears, her lungs heaving painfully, struggling with air too thick to breathe. With a shudder, she forced herself to focus on Kili.

"Billa, are you alright?" His tone seemed to imply this wasn't the first time he'd asked, and the halfling tried to smile. If she managed more than a weak twitch of the lips, it didn't feel like it.

"I'm… alright." She could feel herself shaking, and darkness crept into her mind like a soft, warm summer night. What would Thorin have said, though, if he could see her now? Weak. If she'd done this at the beginning of the Quest, he probably would have sent her home.

"I mean it, Aunt Billa. You're all pale and… here. Let me help you down. You don't look steady."

"I'm fine," she muttered, but didn't resist as Kili slotted his hands under her arms and lifted her out of the saddle. "Just… need a minute to breathe." When had breathing become such hard work?

When she came to herself again, she was leaning against a broad, warm chest, and there was an arm around her waist. At first, she thought she must be on a pony, since her seat was about as steady as a sapling in a high wind. But a moment of consideration revealed that it was in fact the floor of the cart. The dwarf holding her smelled too familiar to be anyone other than Kili, but she didn't remember getting into the cart with him, let alone falling asleep against him.

"What happened?"

It took Kili a moment to answer, and in that moment, he pressed a wineskin into her hands, indicating that she should take a drink.

"You fainted. Glad I was holding on to you. Not sure I'd forgive myself if I'd let you fall."

Billa sighed, and her breath returned to her off the cool wine, fruity and tart.

"I'm sorry. I-" But before she could even invent an 'I should have' statement, Kili interrupted her.

"This isn't something to be ashamed of. It's not something to apologize for. You were never a warrior. And after seeing all you did, I don't blame you." Kili gave her a gentle squeeze, and his seriousness faded as he poked her ribs. "Happy you waited until after they were dead to faint, though. Before then might have been awkward." She could hear a smile in his voice, and knew he was trying to cheer her up. And maybe if he wasn't so darn good at it, she might have been able to persist in her gloom. As it was, she let out a weak giggle and managed, at last, to turn her attention outward and away from herself.

Jor was following the cart, looking grim. It was the same sort of expression she'd seen on Dwalin's face whenever Thorin or his nephews got hurt.

"Thank you," she said to the bodyguard (what else could she call him?) and he looked at her in surprise. "You fought well. I don't know what I would have done if I'd actually had to _use_ my sword." Remembering then to check her belt, she found Sting had been returned to its scabbard. Jor, meanwhile, was looking a bit flustered, his eyes flitting about as though he didn't know quite where to look.

"Just doin' m'job, ma'am," he muttered at length, and she couldn't tell if he was pleased or embarrassed or both. Billa craned her neck to look at Kili, who was grinning. That smile erased years from his hard face, remaking him into the lad she'd gotten to know on the Quest.

"Not used to getting compliments from ladies, Mr. Jor?" he asked, a chuckle hiding in the words. Jor grumbled something under his breath, and Billa thought she could see a faint pink flush showing over the top of his auburn beard.

"Oh, leave him alone, Kee. I was just trying to say thank you, that's all." She gave Kili's arm a push, and though he didn't let go, the young dwarf laughed. She still thought of him as young. It was strange to look at him and see that he wasn't.

"How are you, Sister?"

Dis fell into step beside Jor, who bowed deferentially and made room for her. Billa sighed faintly, and gave her new sister a smile.

"I'm alright. Steadier than I was a bit ago."

Dis nodded, looking relieved. "I was afraid you'd been injured-"

"No. Jor saw to that. I just… I guess my stomach isn't as strong as it used to be." Billa glanced at Kili for confirmation, and received a puzzled look instead. When she looked back at Dis, she saw the same expression, almost exactly, on the features of the dwarrowdam.

"Strong… stomach?" Kili asked, and poked Billa's paunch for good measure. The halfling swatted his hand away.

"Yes, it's an expression. Someone with a strong stomach can handle a lot of… strain." She gestured vaguely, but knew that what was a common saying among hobbits didn't necessarily carry through to the rest of the world. Hobbits were almost as isolated as elves.

"It's an odd expression. But then, so is that one about… what was it, something about toes?"

Billa rolled her eyes. "You're thinking of 'tenderfoot.' If you're a tenderfoot, it means you're inexperienced."

Kili was laughing, but Billa didn't feel like stopping him. "You see what I mean, Amad? It's like she comes from a different world."

Dis smiled indulgently and shook her head. "You're the one with tender feet between the two of you. I'd keep my mouth shut, Son."

This, thought Billa, was what it was like to be part of a family. It warmed her deep down, and she couldn't help but curl her toes with pleasure. She hadn't felt like this since her days on the road with the Company. It was almost like something that had been broken for a very long time was beginning to work properly again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept looking for a way to slip in a mention of the dwarf that died during the fight, but honestly... Billa was too overwhelmed to notice. I'm sure she felt terrible for it afterward, and composed a touching song on the matter.


	4. Heart at Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billa finally returns to Erebor.

"AMAD!" The delighted shriek was all but deafening as it bounced off the polished stone walls. A little figure with dark curls and wearing a dress of green and yellow darted out from between taller, sterner folk to sprint toward her mother. Someone called "Princess, wait!" but it was far too late for that sort of thing. The little girl cannon-balled into Billa's chest, knocking the halfling clean off her feet. They'd have both fallen if not for Jor and Kili each catching Billa's arms and pushing her upright again.

Nevermind that she couldn't breathe properly. Nevermind that it felt like at least two of her ribs had cracked. Nevermind that the journey had taken close to fifteen months. Billa held her daughter tightly, marveling at the fact that at only six years old, Thren was already nearly as tall as she was.

"Tillie, my baby girl." Billa gave her a fierce squeeze, then pushed her back a little. "Look at you. You're twice as big as when I left. Who told you you were allowed to do that? Didn't I say no growing until I got back?"

The thought struck her suddenly, and Billa turned to frown at Kili.

"You said you were getting me for her birthday. It took us over a year to get here." Her tone was almost accusing, and Kili shrugged slightly.

"I didn't say which birthday, did I?"

"Bebother and confusticate you dwarves," she muttered, and put an arm around her daughter.

"Aunt Billa. There are others that want to see the princess, too." Kili's tone was hard to read, somewhere between mild disapproval and barely-contained laughter.

Billa glanced over her shoulder and saw Dis watching her. Whether it was approval or jealousy in her expression wasn't clear at this distance, but Billa was sure it could be fixed quickly enough.

"Are you coming back to stay, Amad? Are you here forever?" Tillie looked up into her mother's face, and Billa felt her heart twist as she met the gaze of hazel eyes, so like her own. How had she ever been able to leave her precious little girl? How had she survived those lonely years in the Shire without her? And now that she thought back on it, the only real reason she could give for her own departure was selfishness and anguish. It felt like the last six years had been a fog of pain and self-centered grieving.

"Yes, dearheart. I'm here to stay." Glancing back at the group she'd traveled with again, she smiled. "Sister, come join us. Let these stiffs do their dance in the hall and frost their beards with polite words. I want to warm up and spend time with my daughter."

Whatever jealousy might or might not have been in Dis' face disappeared almost immediately, and she smiled. There was Thorin's smile again, looking out at her from those blue-grey eyes. Billa felt almost comforted by it, rather than heartbroken. It was a nice change, though she wasn't sure when it had happened.

"I and my sons will join you soon, Sister."

Billa nodded, and let her daughter lead her back to the royal apartments, where everyone they loved would be staying. Of course, once they turned the corner into the corridor marked with the seal of Durin, there was dear old Bofur, who swept her up in a hug and planted a wet kiss on her cheek. And Bombur, who exclaimed over how thin she was. Nori, who produced something small and shiny as a welcoming gift, giving her a sly smile as he passed it to her silently. Dori, fussing over her clothes and the state of her hair and how _thin_ she was! Ori, engulfing her in a hug and confessing that he'd missed her.

"Our cousin was supposed to come with the caravan--Jor. Did you see him?"

"I wondered why he reminded me of you." Billa grinned. "Yes, he's here. He was my bodyguard all the way from the Shire." Ori looked fit to burst with pride, and Dori took a moment to explain that Jor was the only son of their father's sister, though Billa was hardly listening.

A white-haired, long-bearded dwarf approached, shooing the others away ineffectively. Balin's kind eyes found hers, and Billa felt warmth fill her up from the tips of her hairy toes to the top of her curly head. Thorin's closest advisor, and one of his most trusted friends.

"Oh, Balin." She took his hand gently, then gave him a hug. Under his heavy robes, she could feel his shoulders and chest still strong and thick with muscle, in spite of his great age. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left."

"It's alright, lass. I understand. We all do."

"Uncle Balin, Amad says she's going to stay!" Tillie grinned hugely up at the grandfatherly dwarf, who smiled back at her fondly.

"Oi, short-stuff, where'd your boots go?" Nori's voice pulled Billa out of her daze, and she looked about, discovering that her daughter was, indeed, barefoot. She had large feet, though not as large as her mother's, with a generous growth of thick, curly hair around the toes. Billa tried to swallow a grin as Tillie scuffed her large feet against the stone, looking abashed.

"I… lost 'em."

"You _lost_ your brand new boots?" Dori couldn't have looked more appalled if the little girl had announced that she wanted to take up adventuring at dawn the next morning.

"Well…"

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to _make_ those?" Dori was making such a fuss that Billa felt she needed to step in.

"Dori, do you remember how I reacted the first time you tried to get me to wear shoes?" She put a hand on Tillie's shoulder, and saw Dori flush slightly.

"Yes, well… that was different."

"Yes, I suppose it was. The shoes you made for _me_ were only made of cloth." She gave her daughter's shoulder a gentle squeeze and smiled faintly. "If she's anything like me, and I flatter myself to think she is, then I would guess wearing shoes of any kind is uncomfortable. How does it feel when you wear the boots, Til?"

"I can't feel the stone anymore," Tillie mumbled, sounding embarrassed, but pleased at the same time.

"Does that bother you?"

"Yes, Amad." The girl looked up, eyes large. "Can you feel the stone like I do? It… it talks to me. Through my feet." It sounded as though she'd tried to tell people this before, and she was afraid her mother wouldn't believe her.

"No… I'm afraid I can't. But I can say I understand. Wearing shoes, for hobbits… it's like wearing a blindfold, or not being able to smell anything."

"You smell with your feet?" Nori looked over his brother's shoulder, smirking, and got an elbow to the gut for his trouble. Billa ignored him and turned to her daughter.

"Tillie, do you know where the boots are now?"

The little girl nodded, looking uncertain.

"Can you go get them?"

"Will I hafta put 'em back on, Amad?" She looked so very pathetic that Billa found herself laughing in spite of herself. What would Thorin have said? Who was she kidding? If Thorin were still alive, he'd have been wrapped around his daughter's little finger.

"No, little gem, you don't have to put them back on. Not right now, anyway. We'll talk about it with your aunt and cousins when they get here."

As Tillie scurried off to get her boots, Balin put a warm hand on Billa's shoulder. "She's needed a mother. I'm glad you're back, lass."

"Yeah… me, too."

 

 


	5. With Her Whole Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billa and her daughter finally settle down for some quiet time together, and are joined by the King Under the Mountain.

"Billa."

His voice was different. She couldn't put her finger on what had changed, but she knew for certain that it wasn't the same. Billa turned away from her daughter, whose hair she'd been in the process of brushing out, to face the new arrival. Dis was in the corner, staring thoughtfully into the distance (not quite brooding, but it was awfully close) and near her, in the doorway, stood a muscular blond dwarf with a full, golden beard, looking at her with tired blue-grey eyes. He wore a black-and-silver crown on his head, which he removed as he entered.

"Fili." The halfling stood, handing the brush to her daughter as she moved toward him. The king. Fili wore his authority well, like he belonged under its weight, but she could see how much it strained him to bear it day after day after weeks and months and years. He'd never really recovered from his uncle's death. None of them had. Fili didn't stop her as she approached and wrapped her arms around his chest. He seemed ever so much more… dwarvish. Billa wasn't sure there was another word for it. Like he'd filled out of his youthful slenderness and into the heavy stone mold he'd been pulled from.

"You came back," he whispered, and returned her embrace. "I didn't think you would."

In a way, his lack of faith stung. In other ways, she felt she probably deserved it. She'd given no sign that she would return, and when she had left, she hadn't intended to. The world had been simpler in absolutes--but she knew that wasn't how the world worked. It hadn't worked that way since one summer morning when a grouchy old man in a pointy hat had interrupted her morning pipe.

"I'm here now, Fee, and I'm not going anywhere. I promise." She gave him a squeeze, and wondered if he could feel it. She was so weak in comparison to him--now a grown dwarf in his prime.

Fili patted her shoulder and released her, taking a deep breath before moving aside to let his brother past. Tillie let out a shout of delight and sprang at her cousin, letting him sweep her off her feet and swing her about.

"You were gone a _long_ time," she informed him, as though this were a dreadful thing he could get in trouble for. Kili chuckled and set her down.

"But I came back. And I brought your mam with me. Doesn't that count for anything?"

Tillie kicked the rug with bare, hairy toes for a moment before answering. "Oh… I s'pose. But don't do it again!" She hugged him, her head nearly reaching midway up his chest. Kili wrapped an arm around her and rested his cheek against the top of her head, the way he did sometimes with Billa.

"I'll do my best, Princess."

Fili sat down in a chair near the fire and let out a low sigh. Billa followed him, and sat at his feet, leaning back against his legs. Being king… she could see that it weighed on him, the same way it had weighed on Thorin. And she wished, in much the same way as she had when she was with the Company, that there was some way to lighten his unbearable load.

The feeling of fingers in her hair startled her out of her reverie, and Billa turned her head slightly to look back at him.

"May I?" His voice had dropped to almost a whisper. After a moment, she nodded. It only took a moment for him to start. Fili had a handful of her curls, and though she couldn't see his fingers, she could tell by the subtle movements of his wrist that he was braiding her hair. It reminded her of sitting in front of her mother's chair in Bag End and letting Belladonna braid her hair… it had been nothing close to the elaborate design she was sure Fili was working into her brown locks, but the feeling was almost the same. Safe and familiar.

Tillie plopped down on the rug in front of her mother and offered her the brush again. Billa drew her closer and resumed working the tangles out of her daughter's damp curls.

"Kili, come join us!" The younger of her cousins bowed to her imperious command, though not before Billa dealt Tillie a gentle blow with the brush.

"Be nice, Til. Where are your manners?"

The pointed tips of the girl's large ears turned slightly pink, and she ducked her head a little, as though trying to hide her face. "Sorry. Cousin, would you please come join us?"

"That's better."

Kili chuckled faintly. "As my princess wishes." He moved over to the fire, his uneven gait pronounced now after a long day of standing and walking. Kili lowered himself to the rug and allowed his little cousin to pull his braids free so she could redo them for him.

"How long has it been," in the quiet room, there was no doubt everyone present could hear, "since anyone braided your hair, Aunt Billa?"

The halfling cast back through her memory, setting aside the brush and gathering Tillie's thick mass of dark hair so she could begin separating it properly into sections for the different braids she'd learned from Kili before leaving the Mountain.

"I think… Laketown." Mahal, had it really been that long? Kili had offered since then, and had taught her, of course, but… it had hurt too much. It ached now, feeling the warm, thick fingers weaving her hair in and out and about. And now the safe, familiar feeling of fingers in her hair reminded her of Thorin, braiding her hair for the first and only time… that night in Laketown, when he'd whispered words of love to her while the Company drank themselves stupid at a feast held in their honor.

Billa tried to ward off the memories. They still hurt. But she couldn't stop thinking of the way Thorin had smiled, his blue eyes no longer sad and distant and serious, but focused on _her,_ full of the sort of joy she was sure he hadn't known since the Desolation. And it had felt so good to be the one that made him smile.

"I promised him," Fili whispered. "I promised him I would be the king he would have been. That I would take care of Erebor. Take care of you." His voice gained a little strength, as though remembering his promises recovered a measure of resolve. A moment of silence passed before Billa could muster the words.

"Fili… he'd be proud. I know he would. Proud of you. I am."

Tomorrow, Thorin would be a memory again. A legend. Right now… he was an uncle, and a brother, and a father. Billa's heart ached fiercely, and Tillie leaned back against her mother, reaching back to touch her arm.

"Adad would have liked me, wouldn't he? Would I be his princess, too?"

Billa laughed quietly, releasing the emotion through mirth rather than tears, because those were her choices. "Yes, little gem. He would have loved you with all his heart. Now, sit up, lovely. I need to finish this braid before I forget which way I was going."

There was another beat of silence, but Billa could sense the conversation wasn't over. Maybe it was a feminine sixth sense, but she knew that Fili had something yet to say. It took a handful of quiet minutes before he did, though.

"Tell me… you didn't leave because I wasn't good enough."

The king's hands had gone still in Billa's hair, and she imagined that he was holding his breath, waiting for her reply.

"No, Fee. I didn't leave because of you. I left because I… I wasn't strong enough to stay." The words tasted bitter in her mouth, tasted of failure. But in a moment, one of Fili's strong arms and wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her hard against his knees, and she felt his nose pressed against the top of her head.

"You're the strongest person I've ever known, except maybe my mother."

Somewhere behind Fili, Billa could hear Dis let out a dry chuckle.

"You only say that because I'm listening."

And then Fili was laughing, too. Quiet, breathless laughter, the laughter that saves tears from falling. Fili released her and sat up again, continuing his job of braiding his aunt's hair.

"I'm glad you're back. All of you." Fili's confession would never be spoken of again, but Billa imagined that when they left the sitting room, all with fresh braids in their hair, she could see the relief in his face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may be convinced to write another chapter, if enough people ask for one. Tillie's birthday, perhaps, or something equally happy. There's a lack of tooth-rotting fluffiness in this fic, and I have a feeling it's because I didn't skip far enough into the future.


	6. A Heart for the Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billa and Tillie spend some quality time together while everyone else is keeping secrets.

The cake alone must have weighed as much as a small pony. It took three dwarves to move it to the table, and Bombur puffed into the room with a cask under each arm. Billa shook her head in wonder, watching the bustle and commotion. Of course, as soon as Kili saw her standing in the doorway, he hurried over to shoo her out. There was a gleam of laughter in his eyes as he made a "keep quiet" gesture.

"Tillie hasn't seen any of it yet. You'd better not blab. It'll ruin the surprise."

"Surprise, right. _Ori's_ the one that told me there was something going on down here. And you know if _he's_ heard, then the whole mountain already knows. He never comes out of the Archives." Billa poked Kili's arm, and the dwarf made a face.

"Ori's supposed to know. He wrote the speech. But he shouldn't be opening his big mouth about it. Where's Tillie?"

Billa glanced down the hall. Yes, there was Jor, lurking at the corner and watching her from a distance. At least he was keeping his distance now. She turned her attention back to Kili and gave him an encouraging smile. "With Dwalin, I'm pretty sure. It's time for her combat lessons."

"Uh-oh." Kili straightened. He was looking toward the other end of the hall, and when Billa turned to follow his gaze, she saw Dwalin striding down the corridor toward them with a thunderous expression. They stayed where they were as the warrior approached. The halfling noticed, as she usually did when speaking with Dwalin since her return, that his beard was starting to turn grey around the edges.

"The little scamp ran off," he growled, stopping and putting one hand on the head of the ax hanging from his belt. "I let 'er have a break to get water, and this is what I get."

Billa sighed, silently thanking the Valar that Dwalin had never married. He would have made a terrible father. Excellent uncle. Terrible father.

"I'll find her." As she started off, Kili grabbed her arm, looking gravely concerned.

"Are you sure? What if you get lost?"

She shook him off with a smile and nodded toward Jor, who was watching them with keen interest. "I have my protector. I'm sure your mother put him up to it. I'll find her and take her to our rooms. Don't worry about a thing." Kili gave her a look that said plainly he was going to worry about it whether she gave him permission or not, and Billa rolled her eyes. "Be careful, Kee. Your face might stick like that." And with that, she left them, smirking as she caught a glimpse of Kili's disconcerted expression.

Billa had no doubt that Dwalin already had the Ereborian Guard combing the Mountain for her daughter. She also had a fair idea of where the girl might be. She knew where _she_ would be if she were in her daughter's position. So rather than checking the deep, dark places, the quiet places, Billa made her way toward the front gate, where she was let through with nothing more than a salute and an odd look. Jor followed, closing the gap between them as they moved outside the safety of the Mountain's steep sides and thick walls. Quite unconcerned with the "dangers" of the outside world (it had been so long since the last orc raid on the Mountain that Billa felt she was really quite safe within sight of the huge front gates) the halfling made her way down the causeway. She paused at the base of the waterway, listening to the stream, scanning the surrounding area.

"Ye think the princess left the Mountain, ma'am?" Jor sounded concerned, and Billa chuckled.

"Oh, I'm sure of it. And I'm pretty sure she's friends with the gate guards, too. Did you notice there was only one on duty?" An expression of comprehension crossed Jor's homely features, and the halfling nodded, smiling. Turning her attention back to the land about them, she began picking her way down the slope, following the stream as it wound around to the south side of the Mountain. She remembered all too clearly following this stream another time, in the freezing, foggy night preceding her own banishment. There had been elven guards there, and a row of tents there. Thranduil's pavilion had been right over there, and she'd crossed here.... Billa paused, spotting something new. There was a little patch of freshly-turned earth, dark and moist in contrast to the dull rock all around.

Near the little patch of earth, there was a large, armored dwarf with a fondly exasperated look on his grim face. And there, kneeling in the dirt, was Tillie, covered in muck up to her elbows. She looked up when the guard grunted in surprise, and hastily stood, looking guilty.

"It's alright, little gem." Billa put a soothing hand on her daughter's head, and the little girl looked up cautiously, hazel eyes peering through a dark fringe of curly bangs.

"You're not mad?"

"I'm not angry with you, no. Dwalin is, though. You'll need to apologize to him when you see him next."

The little head drooped under her hand, as though it bore a heavy weight. "I know," Tillie mumbled, her unhappy tone echoed in the slump of her shoulders.

"Oh, cheer up, little one. You're alright." Billa brought her daughter close and hugged her, not caring if Tillie got damp earth all over her dress.

"Everyone's just so busy today. Do this, do that, do the other thing. I thought we were going to have fun today. So I snuck away from my lessons to work on my garden. No one thinks my garden is important."

Billa looked at the little garden, and felt herself wince slightly. The plants were crowded and wilting, some were falling over, and none were producing any fruit, though there were, she was pleased to see, no weeds. She couldn't blame her daughter for not knowing how to make or tend a garden. There had been no one to teach her how.

"There's nothing more important in the world than living things," said Billa gently. "It's our job to take care of them whenever possible, whether they're small and green or have four legs and hooves or two big, furry feet and your father's nose." Billa bent a little so she could kiss the nose in question. "Come on, I'll help you with your garden. Can we get more of this soil? I think we might need a little more space for all your friends here."

For the next two hours, Billa and Tillie worked side by side, enlarging her garden and replanting her tomatoes and herbs in neat rows. When they were done, both of them were covered in dirt and sweat, but looked as pleased as could be. And since the plants had been carefully moved, fertilized, watered, and staked, Billa felt good about steering her daughter inside. They talked about Billa's garden back in the Shire, laughing over her mistake of planting the cucumbers and squash too close to one another and making herself a big, tangled mess later in the summer.

"Amad... did Adad like gardens, too?"

Billa felt a sort of dull stab in her chest, but smiled anyway and answered quietly. "No, he didn't. He thought having a garden was silly. Didn't believe me when I told him there were things called gooseberries. But he'd never seen salmonberries or huckleberries before, either, so he decided I was making it all up." She chuckled faintly at the memory, even though it hurt. That particular argument had been completely pointless, but then, all their conversations in Mirkwood had been completely pointless, other than the obvious revelation of her feelings for him. That had been an awkward time for a little bit. Then she had rescued the Company, helped them escape, and promptly caught a nasty cold. Because life was never as simple as it could be.

"Why? I mean..." Tillie paused, face contorted with concentration as they moved up the causeway toward the front gate. "Why are we the only ones that care about the growing things?"

"Because... I'm not a dwarf. And neither are you." Billa put a hand on her daughter's shoulder and pulled her closer.

"I'm not?"

"No. You're half dwarf, and half hobbit. That makes you something completely new." Together, they were quiet for a while, moving barefoot and almost soundless through the gate and toward the royal quarters. Billa watched her daughter think, smiling proudly. They'd had their first profound conversation. Her little girl was growing up, thinking about where she came from, what she was made for. It was an overwhelming thought, but not a bad one.

"Harf?" Tillie asked at length.

Billa paused in front of the door to the royal baths and looked at the little girl in confusion. "What?"

"Is that what I am? A 'harf?' Half hobbit, half dwarf."

Billa felt a chagrined smile spread across her face. Well, so much for profound thinking.

"No, dearest, 'harf' is how dogs say hello."

"So then I'm a... dwobbit?"

With a laugh, the halfling ushered her daughter through the door and into the bath, carefully neglecting to answer the question. The name "dwobbit" certainly appealed more than "harf," but there was a very limited measure of dignity to either one, and she'd prefer not to advocate a name for her mixed-breed child's race until she'd had a good long time to think about it. Not to say she hadn't thought about it. She just hadn't come up with anything worthwhile. Thorin probably would have known a word in Khuzdul that would describe their daughter's heritage--something that sounded better than "Half-dwarf." Though she supposed if it worked for Lord Elrond....

"Amad?"

"Yes, little gem?"

"Did anyone remember that it's my birthing-day?"

Billa smothered a smile in her towel, thinking to herself that dwarves were a little too good at keeping secrets for their own good. Though she supposed that for dwarrrows, it was different. They were, as far as she'd seen, as taciturn as their adult counterparts.

"Oh, I'm sure someone remembered. I know I did."

"So why hasn't anyone wished me a happy birthday? Why haven't you?" The little girl looked at her accusingly through the thick steam of the room, and Billa did her very best not to give herself away by grinning too broadly.

"I planned to give you your gift tonight after supper. I didn't want to make the wait hard for you." She helped her little faunt out of the tub and wrapped her in a soft, clean towel. "Do you think you can wait until after dinner for my gift, precious?" If she'd worried the child would be upset with her, these fears were allayed almost immediately. Tillie looked up at her mother with eyes shining with excitement. She all but vibrated under the towel as Billa rubbed her dry and began to work on her hair.

"You made me a present? Really?"

"What else did you think I would do, you silly thing?"

A servant entered quietly and told Billa that clothes were laid out in the bedchamber for her and the young princess, and Billa nodded to her with a smile.

"Thank you. When will we be wanted for supper?"

"His Majesty will come to escort you when everything is ready."

"Yay! Cousin Fili's gonna eat with us!" Tillie was still very much a fauntling, and Billa shook her head with a smile as her daughter gripped her towel about her neck like a cape and scampered about the room, capering as though it were Midsummer's Eve and Gandalf were setting off his fireworks.

"Thank you," Billa said to the servant with a roll of her eyes, going to capture her wayward daughter. "Come on, you. We need to get dressed."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, she's maturing and growing up and... nope. "Harf." *snicker*


	7. Heart of a King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili reveals his surprise to his cousin, and Billa almost learns something new about her daughter.

"Do I _have_ to wear it?"

"It's an important part of the evening."

"But I already know where you're taking me." Tillie looked at the blindfold in her hands, seeming more than usually reluctant to put it on. Fili traded a look with Billa that asked her for help, but the halfling gave him a shrug and a faint smile.

_If you want her to wear it, you'll have to convince her. This wasn't my idea._

"Maybe you do, but this is special. I want you to be surprised." Though Fili's voice was calm and persuasive, Billa suspected there was more to this blindfolding business than met the eye, so to speak. He was dressed simply, but as ever there was a richness to his garb that made it impossible to forget he was King Under the Mountain. A diamond clasp fastened the short ceremonial cape to his shoulder, and his tunic had his personal design picked out in gold thread along the hem. It wasn't much, as far as dwarven nobles went, but the quality of his clothing and the ease with which he wore it were unmistakable. It might have had something to do with him being crowned so young (the youngest king among dwarves for the past five hundred years, or something of the sort).

"I won't be surprised," Tillie assured him. "The stone will tell me what's coming." She did, however, offer him the blindfold and turn around so he could tie it about her eyes. Fili did so, a slight triumphant smile curling his lips. For the occasion, he'd braided his mustache down into his beard. Normally, Billa wouldn't have thought much of it, but on her nephew, the effect was rather fetching. Honestly, she was a little surprised he hadn't married yet. He was a good-looking dwarf (as the line of Durin seemed so inclined to) and now he was a king.

Fili turned to look at her, and indicated that she should lead the way. Billa rolled her eyes. She didn't think Tillie would be fooled by their silence. She was too smart a girl for that. With a shrug, the halfling did as she was bid, opening the door and making her way out into the hall, where Jor and Dwalin were waiting. The way they were both lounging against the wall, arms crossed and faces surly, made Billa giggle. Jor wasn't usually so grumpy about his duties. Clearly, he was imitating the older guard.

They reached the dining hall quickly enough, but Fili gestured for her to keep going. Confused, Billa did so, and continued down the hall, casting looks over her shoulder to see what Fili had in mind. He directed her to what Billa assumed was one of the larger audience chambers outside the Hall of Kings, and when the door was open, he guided Tillie inside with one hand on her shoulder. Then, he released her and stepped back.

Cautiously, the little girl reached up to take off her blindfold.

"Not yet. First, step to the middle of the room." Fili's tone made the words into a command, though it wasn't a harsh one. There was a definite hesitation in her obedience, but Tillie did so, moving down the stairs into the depression in the center of the room. Then she reached for the blindfold again.

"First," the word was again a command to wait, and Tillie let her hands drop to her sides, seeming unnerved, "tell me where we are. What do you know about this room?"

Billa shot a sidelong glance at Fili, and felt a thrill of apprehension. He looked so serious, it made her wonder if this was the sort of test that might not end with some sort of crowning or beheading. Of course, she knew it could be neither, but with Fili, it was really hard to tell how serious his seriousness was. It all looked the same; very grave and quiet. She turned her gaze back to her daughter, worry gnawing pointlessly at her empty stomach. Just what was going on?

Tillie shifted, spreading her feet a little. Under that gorgeous dress, Billa knew the girl's feet were bare, the way she liked it, and her daughter was "listening" to the stone. She didn't quite understand it, but figured it must be akin to what she did in the Shire, testing the soil with her toes to see where she needed to spread fertilizer and what spots would best suit which plants. She'd never say the soil "spoke" to her, but it was easy to read what it did best or needed most.

"We're... near the Hall of Kings. Is this some sort of court?" It was clear after a beat of silence that no one was going to answer Tillie's question. Billa looked around, taking in the room for the first time. There was the circular depression in the center of the room, where Tillie stood, and around her, there were raised seats, tiered, so the audience could see whoever stood in the middle. To one side of the room, there was a high dais, and on it stood a large chair. A throne, in fact. Scattered among the tiered seats, sitting as still as though they'd been carved from the same stone they rested on, were a generous handful of dwarves. Billa recognized them as nobility, members of Fili's court. Balin was there, too, and so was Gloin.

"It's like a cup. It's all shaped like a cup, and I'm at the bottom." Tillie's voice began to quaver slightly. Billa wanted to go to her, comfort her, but Fili's hand on her shoulder stopped her before she could go even a single step. Tillie continued. "There are others. They're watching me, and I don't know why. Why are they watching? There's blood. There's blood in the stone and I don't like it. Fee, can we please go?" Her tone communicated increasing distress, and without taking off her blindfold, she turned back toward her king.

"What is your judgment?" Fili's voice rolled through the room, and Tillie flinched, letting out a faint whimper. The dwarves in the seats stood as one.

"She hears the Voice," said one, his impressive beard wagging comically as he spoke.

"She has the Gift," said another, gesturing toward Tillie with a beringed hand.

Fili nodded. "Thren, daughter of Thorin, you may remove your blindfold." He was still looking gravely down at her as Tillie pulled the strip of cloth away from her eyes. She didn't look around the room to see if she'd been right about her descriptions, but looked up at Fili.

"I don't like it here," she said, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. "The stone is sad."

Fili hesitated just a moment, then continued in the same solemn tone. It seemed that this observation bothered him, in one way or another. Billa hoped fiercely that it bothered him to torment a poor little girl like this.

"Thren, daughter of Thorin, King Under the Mountain, I hereby mark you as my Heir, and place you under the direct protection of the Carven Throne. Will you accept the honor and the responsibility required of you to serve the people of Erebor in whatever way you can, be it in peace or in war?"

Tillie looked up at her cousin with wide, dark eyes. Slowly, she nodded. "I will."

"Then it is done. Balin, if you please."

The white-haired dwarf descended from his seat and produced a flat box from one of his expansive pockets. This he opened and offered to Tillie. From where she stood, Billa could see that the box only contained one item--a simple circlet of silver, or maybe of white gold. Tillie accepted the box and bowed slightly, so Balin could remove the circlet from the box and place it on her head, nestled among her dark curls to pleasing effect, the contrast of silver and black. When she straightened, there was something of solemnity in her young face, and Billa wasn't sure whether she was more proud or sad to see it. Tillie was growing up. Soon, she suspected, the girl would just be "Thren."

"Can we go now?" asked Tillie, shifting a little. "The stone is sad, and I don't like it."

"Yes, Princess, we can go." Fili extended a hand to her, and Tilli hiked up her skirts so she could get to him as quickly as possible. Soon, she was safely situated between her mother and cousin, and they moved together back to the dining hall, followed by the quiet procession of noble dwarves. They were speaking softly to one another now, and Billa strained her ears to hear them. There were words passing between them like "gift," "destined," and "Durin." She couldn't hear anything more specific, though.

"Are you going to tell me what all that was about?" She looked at Fili, who smiled faintly at her over Tillie's head.

"It's a long story. Suffice to say it would have happened last year if you'd been here, but I wanted you to see it."

"Why?"

"Because... she's Thorin's." Fili's eyes darkened slightly, and Billa knew he was thinking about what his uncle would say if he were there with them.

"Yes... she is. Your father would be proud of you, little gem." The halfling pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead, noticing again that she didn't need to bend to do so.

"More than you know," added Fili cryptically. Billa would have asked more, but that was when they reached the dining hall. The doors were thrown open and music rolled out, greeting the new heir to the throne.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was _supposed to be_ the last chapter. And it is the last chapter of THIS story. Unfortunately, it's also the beginning of a new story. As Loki says: "This definitely requires, nay, _demands_ a sequel."  
>  Upon further discussion, it was agreed that Tillie requires her own novel. Thorin's practically fit to burst with pride. Not only did he have a _daughter_ ("First try, too. Beat that.") but she has a Gift that runs in his family (and has it in spades), _and_ she's the youngest dwarrow to be crowned heir of a kingdom in an Age or more.   
>  She may was well be Durin the freaking Deathless. *Thorin grins*
> 
> I will, however, take a hiatus from writing about Tillie, because I have a short story to finish editing, send in for publication, etc, and a second original in the works which might be a bit longer, or may end up here. I suppose it depends on whether or not changing the names makes it "original." :D
> 
> Again, if anyone's interested in becoming part of my test audience for my original works, please shoot me an email at c.inkypaws at gmail. I'd love to hear from you!


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